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He should hate her, he knows.
He should hate her with what she did, for the poison coursing through his veins and threatening to stop his heart. He should hate her for betraying him.
But he just... can't.
Why?
He's always wanted to protect Ruruka. For as long as he's known her, he's wanted to protect her.
And it's not just for the candies, of course not. It's more for that sugary-sweet smile she offers him whenever she's absolutely thrilled over something, for the way she absolutely beams whenever he offers her an umbrella, and she snuggles into his shoulder so they can both be dry.
He does love Ruruka.
It stings, then, more than the pinch of the needle in his wrist, more than the way sparks can give him a shock whenever he botches a piece of machinery. It stings that he'll have to leave her alone.
It's the reason he's not angry at her. It's the reason he's okay with dying, as long as it means Ruruka is safe. As long as it means Ruruka is alive.
He savors the sugary-sweet candy (maybe the last thing he'll ever taste) and offers Ruruka a sad smile.
He knows she'll be okay. Ruruka always is, somehow. No, he's just worried about how she's going to forgive herself.
Because Ruruka does have a rather unfortunate habit of blaming herself. Ruruka does blame herself for things out of her control, despite the devil-may-care attitude she puts on. She lets very few people in, and if they hurt her, they hurt hard.
Perhaps Ruruka is a snake. One of those long, beautiful snakes that slides gracefully across the ground, markings gleaming in the morning light. She may bite, and it may hurt, but she's still the prettiest snake under the sun.
And now she's crying - no, that's not right. It's not right for Ruruka to be crying. She is a goddess, impenetrable, impregnable, unbreakable. She's not supposed to-
Her hand slides through his hair, pulling him into a hug, and he feels the blood seeping out of his eye as she sobs.
Why is she crying?
She's afraid, he realizes. She's scared not for him, but how she's going to cope. How she's going to replace the Izayoi-shaped hole in her heart, though he privately doubts that she'll never recover.
And that's okay. It means she's strong. His Ruruka is strong, so strong, that he knows she'll move on. She won't let his memory drag her down.
"You'll be okay," he murmurs into her hair, breathing in her scent. It's sugary, for sure, a slight hint of the tanginess of chocolate and the sourness of lemon candies.
He won't smell this again.
"I love you," she whispers, and he replies in kind.
He will always love her. Even as this broken, traitorous, poisoned heart slows to a stop and gives its last beat, it will all be for her.
It's always been for her.
He can't imagine a world without Ruruka in it. Can't imagine a world without his sunshine to sweeten the bitter days, without his sugar to flavor the hope that he lives for.
(Just maybe, he used to hope, just maybe, they could make it out okay. Could have kids and a family without being tainted by despair, without that darkness threatening to swamp them at every turn.)
He's never been lucky enough for that, anyways. Hasn't been since they were kicked out of Hope's Peak.
But even then, he was okay, thanks to Ruruka by his side. He may have lost a career, but he never lost his purpose.
Never.
He's always wanted to protect Ruruka since the day they first met. Since the first time she smiled.
As his consciousness flickers out, he's aware that he's lying on Ruruka's lap (just like they used to in those happy summer days of long-gone hope) while she sobs, and he wants to tell her not to cry.
Don't cry, Ruruka. Please.
His mouth won't work. He can't say the words he wants her to hear.
His hand won't work. He can't brush those tears off her cheek like he so desperately wants to do.
Her mouth moves without sound, and his eyes slide shut.
Still, he knows her well enough to know what she said.
Rest, Sonosuke.
I'm so sorry.
He allows himself a faint chuckle in his mind, breathing in the smell of Ruruka for the last time. The sourness of her outside, the chocolaty sweetness of her heart, and above all, the sugar always clinging to her hands. Not even blood can mask that smell.
It's the smell he fell in love with.
Oh, Ruruka... If only you could see that there's nothing to apologize for.
Nothing.
Please, be safe, he prays as his mind slows, heart slowing, each beat measured. Please, Ruruka.
I know you'll be okay. I know you'll live enough for both of us.
Please, Ruruka.
You know, right? I've told you enough... so you must know.
Ruruka... I... I...
...
(I love you)